


Our Own Steps

by melekinh



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-04-25 02:15:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14368722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melekinh/pseuds/melekinh
Summary: There are more memories than what happened at The Conclave in the fade, and the inquisitor is met with her past for the first time in a while.





	Our Own Steps

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Drowning, Divorce (kinda), and Death (specifically that of a child) are mentioned in this fic.
> 
> Apologies if there are any errors, I wrote this in one sitting last night and have only read it over once before posting.

Nothing felt quite right here, physically walking through the fade. The inquisitor’s feet were touching solid ground, but her stomach felt as though she were still falling, descending endlessly into the abyss- and through the discomfort, she displayed both uneasiness and interest in equal measure.    
  
She knew she’d done it before, that that was why she was here, why she bore this new title with both trepidation and determination, and why she was the one who had to lead everyone to salvation. The orders kept getting taller, and now here she was again. Only this time, she had dragged everyone else in with her.    
  
For all that she would have loved to have taken better stock of her surroundings, and had time to explore more thoroughly, they had an objective, and likely, a time limit.    
  
So they soldiered on, Lavellan growing increasingly worried by Sera’s obvious terror, but Blackwall’s stoicism and Solas’ guidance helped ease her concerns. They would see this through.   
  
She couldn’t shake the feeling that believing they would fail would breathe that outcome to life, so she focused on their goal. There was no room to doubt her convictions here.    
  
Seeing The Divine, or whatever it was that was taking her shape and using her words to guide them, had been a surprise to say the least- but what was even more baffling was the spirit who accompanied her.    
  
Lavellan would politely decline having any personal vendetta against the Champion, but in truth, she didn’t think much of him. She didn’t trust human men who thought too highly of themselves on instinct, and was correct more often than not in trusting those instincts.    
  
But when the spirit beside The Divine took the form of a human woman bearing the same flaxen hair and icy blue eyes as Hawke, and the Champion’s face crumpled, she began to wonder what more there was to this story.    
  
She learned the woman was the Champion’s sister, or a spirit taking on the form of his sister, and she was to help them fight their way home as Vianni uncovered her memories. The two stayed huddled close together as they traveled through the fade, and Lavellan gave them their space. It was not her right to intrude, though her curiosity burned.    
  
With the first portion of the inquisitor’s memory acquired all seemed to be going according to plan- until it wasn’t.    
  
The memories of The Conclave were not the only ones to be found here, it seemed.    
  
The group came to a halt when the faded figure of a small elven girl cut across their path, laughing and running excitedly.    
  
_ “Mamae! Mamae! Look out for the dragon, he’s coming!” _ __  
  
They all turned to see where this apparition was headed, and saw a ghostly vision of an elven woman with long braided hair scoop up the child, laughing as she did.    
  
_ “A dragon, you say? Oh, you must protect me, da’len!”  _   
  
Everyone stilled- that was the inquisitor’s voice, and they could clearly see now that this was the inquisitor, but not as any of them had known her.    
  
Another apparition entered the scene, running forward slightly hunched, as though he’d just entered through the flap of a tent.    
  
_ “The dragon is already upon you!” _ The new elf let out a playful roar, and surged forward to attack the child and the younger vision of the inquisitor with tickles and a smattering of kisses. The apparitions laughed together, and the ghostly Lavellan kissed the elven man as the vision faded.    
  
All but Solas seemed too stunned to notice the inquisitor had gone stock still and impossibly pale, staring at the space the memory had just occupied.    
  
Lavellan’s vision was black save for the space she’d just been staring at, and the sound of her own heartbeat was all she could focus on without falling apart.    
  
She’d almost forgotten what her daughter had looked like.    
  
That thought shook her from her trance, and she suddenly looked wildly to her companions, taking in their expressions from stricken, to shocked, to awkward, and her chest felt like an avalanche was falling. She met Solas’ eyes last, and was overwhelmed with confusion and finally anger to see what looked almost like... betrayal?    
  
She shook her head, frustrated by how little any of them understood, and doubly so that he hadn’t yet put together the pieces, despite that being an impossible expectation. Still, what kind of woman did he take her for?    
  
“Before any of you say anything,” she spoke, barely above a whisper, and with a deadly- no, a desperate edge. “Not a word of this is to be spoken of back at Skyhold.”    
  
When there was no immediate response, she gripped her daggers tighter in her palms, and took the lead through the fade, and the graveyard of her past.    
  
There were more pockets of herself to be found, some more and some less painful. Her training with her first set of daggers, her traveling for the clan, her first kiss with the man who she would marry, Danishan, and the birth of their daughter, Vylara.    
  
The pieces fell into place when they found the worst of them.    
  
A vision of Lavellan, not too much younger than the one watching the memory unfold, stood before them now. She was smiling, walking into camp carrying a large pack, and wearing a heavy coat she pulled close to her. A vision of her brother, the impossibly demanding elf who’d only recently arrived at Skyhold entered the memory solemnly, and the words he spoke echoed through the fade.    
  
_ “I’m- there’s been an accident, lethallan. I’m sorry.” _ __  
  
_ “An accident?” _ The memory of the inquisitor asked, and Vianni could remember with staggering clarity the way her stomach had dropped, and she’d known before Nialros could get the words out, she knew-   
  
“The children, they... they snuck away to play on the ice,  _ and no one knew where they’d gone, and Vylara, she-“ _ __  
  
The Lavellan in the memory’s face had gone cold, and the one who was physically there’s expression matched her own.    
  
The memory shifted, and kept shifting; there was Lavellan sitting in a tent, sobbing in her brother’s arms, Lavellan and the elven man from before shouting, blaming each other before blaming circumstance or bad luck, Lavellan packing her things and leaving, only saying goodbye to Nialros and giving him her wedding band to give to her former husband, and finally, Lavellan leaving her clan’s camp.    
  
The nightmare’s voice cut through the fade, biting and cruel,   
  
_ “You often wonder if you could have saved her. You know, if you had, she would have been clan Lavellan’s first. What a shame.” _ __  
  
The memories faded, and the inquisitor didn’t dare look any of her friends in their eyes. She stood stock still, her hands balled up in fists, staring at the ground, not speaking.   
  
“Inquisitor, I-“ The pity in Solas’ voice pushed her over the edge- the demon had dredged it all up again, her guilt, her anger, her regret. It hadn’t been Danishan’s bitterness, or even her own, but the clan’s pity on top of it all that had driven her to leave.    
  
“Please, Solas. We...” She sighed, and blinked a couple of tears away. Perhaps it had been foolish to think she could keep running from her grief. A small part of her was glad to see he had the grace to look ashamed for whatever thoughts, however brief, he’d had of her earlier. “can we discuss this later?”    
  
She held his gaze, and was relieved to see the pity shift to something more akin to sympathy, and he nodded gently, but purposefully. He would hold her to that, and she was somewhat unnerved to find that she actually hoped he would.    
  
His pity would have only made her resent him, but his sympathy, she could handle. She would have had to tell him eventually, probably, if this... whatever they were, was going to be anything, anyway. She nodded back to him gratefully, and Blackwall surprised her by stepping forward, and giving her shoulder a soft squeeze.    
  
“I’m sorry for your loss.” He muttered, and Lavellan squeezed his hand back.    
  
“I... thank you.”    
  
The large man nodded, and awkwardly retracted his hand. The inquisitor smiled fondly and continued leading the trek, passing the Champion and his sister who looked equally unsure if there was anything they ought to say after also bearing witness to the inquisitor’s tragic past.    
  
She was relieved when they didn’t.    
  
Sera was the last to acknowledge what they’d seen of the inquisitor’s memories as she trotted up to the front where Lavellan had taken the lead.    
  
“Look, that was.... shite, I’m sorry. I, dunno what to do with the big stuff like that.” Sera seemed to be trying quite hard to keep her cool even as the panic from everything else threatened to overwhelm her, which Lavellan appreciated. “But you’re still standin’, yeah? And that’s hard to do after... well. You know. You’re strong is what I’m trying to say...” Sera sighed, obviously at a loss for words. “Look, I’m not good at talking, but let me know if you ever need to laugh, if we make it out of this, will you? I can do that, I think.” Sera nudged Lavellan gently with her shoulder, and the inquisitor smiled fondly at her.    
  
“Thanks, Sera. I appreciate it.”    
  
When all of her memories had been acquired and there were no more ghosts from the past floating by, she fell into step with Solas, allowing the Champion and his sister to take the lead.    
  
They didn’t speak, but the words of the nightmare echoed in Lavellan’s mind. Not a day went by when she didn’t think about what her daughter might have grown up to be. She had been so young when she had passed- would she truly have been a mage, and the keeper’s first?    
  
“Do not let the demon’s words make you falter, inquisitor.” Solas whispered, so only she could hear. “You requested to speak on this later, and I will honor that. You cannot let its barbs sink into you though, lethallan.”    
  
Lavellan met his eyes silently, and nodded, her resolve steeling.    
  
They were close now, close enough that Lavellan knew they were about to seal their fate, one way or another. There was no room for doubt. They would escape this place, and its torments, and Lavellan would live to finally talk about her daughter, and learn to grieve without destroying herself. That’s what Vylara would have wanted.    
  
And that was the last thought on Lavellan’s mind as they charged the nightmare-    
  
She would make it out of this, for her.


End file.
